Forgiveness: A Lords of Carnage MC Christmas Page 4

  I see the hurt in her features.

  “Fine. We won’t talk about it.” In the moonlight from the window, those gorgeous eyes I fell in love with — the eyes she gave our son — scrutinize me. “But I’ll just say one thing. I don’t know why he left. But if he’s telling the truth, I do know what prompted him to come back. It sounds to me like he took a pretty big risk to be close to his family again.” She takes a shaky breath. “So maybe he deserves a chance, Angel.”

  “No he fucking doesn’t!” I retort angrily. “He gave up that chance when he chose to…” I stop. “Fuck, Jewel. Do not try to trick me into talking about this!”

  “I’m not!” Jewel heaves a heavy sigh. “Okay, think about this. My son — our son — deserves to have at least one grandparent. Don’t you think? There’s no maybe about that. Timothy deserves a grandfather.”

  “Even one who betrayed his father?” I can’t help but grit out.

  “Was what he did so very bad?” Jewel eyes me. “So bad it can never be forgiven?”

  I don’t answer. I can’t answer.

  With another sigh, Jewel turns away. I listen to her breathing slow and deepen.

  It takes me a long time to fall asleep.

  5

  Jewel

  The days pass. Christmas Eve is less than a week away.

  It’s been a flurry of last-minute shopping, getting things ready for Timothy’s first Christmas where he’ll actually be opening gifts himself, and final preparations for the Lords of Carnage big Christmas Eve blowout at the clubhouse.

  Since the day Abe Abbott came back from the dead, Angel and I haven’t spoken of him again. In fact, we’ve barely spoken at all. I don’t know what’s going on between Angel and his father, and I don’t bring it up. It’s an exhausting subject, and I just don’t have the strength for a fight right now.

  I’ve avoided talking to Jenna about things, too. She’s called and left a couple of messages for me, but I haven’t returned them. I’m afraid she’s going to try to talk me into scheming with her. It feels like I’m dancing as fast as I can to avoid getting caught in the middle between Angel and the rest of his family. I can’t help but worry that my loyalties will be pulled every which way, and I don’t know where to turn. Or how to help my husband through this.

  Luckily, the one refuge I have from all of this right now is work. The Smiling Skull, the bar where I’m the manager, is far enough out of town that it feels like it’s in another world. The Skull is owned by the Lords of Carnage, but it’s still my domain. I set the rules here, and what I say goes.

  And right now, what I say is that this is a drama-free zone, dammit.

  It’s mid-afternoon, and I’m standing at the bar washing glasses to prepare for the happy hour rush. I’m working a shift for one of the other bartenders, whose kid is down sick with what might be the flu. It’s just me and Carlos, the short order cook and unofficial weekday bouncer, until Frankie and Mandy come in later. The place is almost empty. There’s only one table of customers — bikers from a weekend club down the road — and one guy nursing a beer at the far end of the bar. The sound system is playing my favorite playlist of country classics, and I hum along to Garth Brooks’s “Friends in Low Places” as I work.

  Off to my left, I hear the familiar click and soft whoosh as the front door opens. Instinctively, I swivel around with a smile, preparing to welcome the customer in my usual way.

  But my smile freezes on my face when I see who it is.

  “Hello, hello,” calls Abe Abbott, a little too jovially, as he walks in. He rubs his hands and blows on them. “My goodness. It’s a cold one out there today.”

  “H-hello,” I echo, stumbling over the single word. “Welcome to the Skull. What’s your poison?”

  If he can hear the dismay in my tone, his face doesn’t show it. It’s obvious he knows who I am, and I can’t pretend not to recognize him. He spreads his lips into a grin, revealing teeth that are unnaturally even, too white. Caps, or dentures. “I’ll have whatever light beer you have on tap.”

  Since there’s only one choice, I grab a glass and silently fill it, then set it in front of him.

  “Jewel, isn’t it?” he says, accepting the drink. “I’m Abe. But then, you probably know that, don’t you?”

  “I do,” I murmur, reddening. This exchange feels so stiff and ridiculous. This is my husband’s father. And yet, I feel completely at a loss. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I remember him from back when he was the mayor, before he disappeared, but I stop myself. I feel uneasy about the idea of just standing here chatting to him. Do I treat him like someone I’m just meeting? Someone I have no connection to? Do I treat him like family? Nothing seems right, somehow.

  Abe Abbott stares at me for a long moment, then smiles briefly, seeming to understand.

  “I’m not here to grill you, if that’s what you’re wondering.” he says. “I’m meeting Trudy Anthony here.”

  “Trudy?” I blink. “Like… a date?”

  He chuckles. “No, no, not exactly. Just two old fossils, meeting to talk about old times. I’ve known Trudy for longer than you’ve been alive.” He pauses. “But I admit, I chose this place because I heard through the grapevine that you work here. And yes, I got here a little early, because I was hoping to talk to you.”

  My stomach clenches. “Look, I’m sorry. But if you’re here to try to get me to side with you over Angel, you should know I can’t do that.”

  “I know, I know. I don’t want you to do that. I wouldn’t ask, I just want to get to know my daughter-in-law a little.”

  I flinch.

  I am his daughter-in-law, of course. Technically. But it doesn’t feel right to let him say it.

  “I… I’m not sure I can do that, either,” I say honestly. “I mean, given the… circumstances.”

  “I remember you from back in the day, you know,” Abe goes on as if I haven’t spoken. “You used to bartend at the MC clubhouse. You were a skittish little thing back then. I remember wondering how you held your own with all those rough men.” He chuckles at the memory. “You’ve definitely come into your own. I hope my son is treating you right.”

  “He is,” I say, defensive.

  He peers at me for a moment. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. I’m afraid he didn’t get that from me, then.”

  I cock my head at him quizzically.

  “I wasn’t the best husband,” he sighs. “Even shittier parent. I thought being successful and well-off was the way to be a real man. I spent so much time following my own ambitions, I left my wife and kids behind in my wake.”

  I don’t say anything. What is there to say? From everything I’ve heard, he’s telling the truth. I’m just surprised he’s admitting it.

  “Tell me about my grandson, Jewel,” he says suddenly.

  “I… I mean…”

  I stall for time, trying to figure out how to deflect the question. But when I stare into the man’s tired, old eyes, the expression in them is so mournful that my heart loosens just a little.

  “Timothy — TJ — is just like Angel,” I admit. “A pint-sized version of Angel. He’s a ball of energy, not afraid of anything. Smart as anything, already. He’s into trucks, and motorcycles of course.” I laugh. “He has a lot of toys that are mini versions of them, and he takes them apart and puts them back together again more than he pretends to drive them.”

  Abe’s face softens. “Your little boy must be the apple of his grandparents’ eyes.”

  I hesitate. “No. My parents don’t care to be grandparents.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  “They’re crazy, for the record,” he adds. “Your parents. Crazy to throw away the chance to be grandparents to that little boy. And any other children you might have.”

  “Well,” I swallow, shrugging. “They didn’t really care to be parents, either, so it’s really no surprise.”

  “Sounds like they’ve made a lot of poor choices.” He pau
ses. “I know what that’s like. I’m in the same boat. But I’m trying to fix that. While there’s still time.”

  The two of us lock eyes. Something passes between us, silently.

  Awkwardly, I clear my throat. “Your beer’s getting warm,” I point out.

  Mechanically, he raises it to his lips. Takes a drink, sets it down.

  “Jewel.”

  Reluctantly, I meet his gaze.

  “I’ve made some shitty choices in my life. For money, and for power. I don’t know if Angel told you why I left Tanner Springs.”

  “No,” I say carefully. “He didn’t.”

  “Well, the short version is, I left town to save my own skin. It seemed like the only thing I could do at the time.” His voice begins to shake as he continues. “But I realize now, there’s nothing for me out there without being with my family. It was hard enough when Jenna’s kids were young. I missed out on Noah and Mariana’s childhoods by being away. But now that you and Angel have a family, I can’t do this anymore.”

  Abe’s eyes are shining. He drags the glass of beer to his face and downs the rest of it in a few gulps. When he’s finished, there’s a fierce, resolute expression on his face that wasn’t there before.

  “Either I’ll be a grandfather — be in my grandchildren’s lives, from now on — or I’ll take whatever consequences I have to for coming back home.”

  “Mr. Abbott…” I begin, not quite knowing what to say.

  “Abe. Please,” he says quietly. “And maybe, eventually… Dad. If I’m very lucky.”

  “Abe…”

  Just then, the front door opens.

  Trudy Anthony appears in the threshold.

  “Looks like your date’s here,” I breathe, relieved to have a reason to stop this conversation.

  Trudy takes in the two of us as she clacks in on her heels. Her eyes flick over me in distaste, before coming to rest on Abe.

  “So, the Skull has been renovated,” she drawls as she walks toward us, glancing around appraisingly. “It was nice of the club to buy you a bar, Jewel. But I guess that’s what you get when you bag yourself the president of the Lords of Carnage.” She sniffs. “Not that Rock ever bothered with anything like this for me. You must have been playing a decent long game with your magic pussy.”

  Abe frowns in surprise. “Now, Trudy. Don’t be like that.”

  “It’s okay,” I say sharply. “I’m used to it with her.”

  “Why, Trudy. What’s gotten into you?” Abe stares at her, uncomprehending.

  “Abe, honey, you’ve been gone a long time,” she chides, rolling her eyes. She gives him a pat on the cheek. “You’re out of the loop. This girl used to be the bartender at the clubhouse.”

  “I know that,” he mutters disapprovingly as he stands from his bar stool. “And now she’s my son’s wife. So stop that talk, now.”

  “Well. She has come up in the world, that’s for sure,” Trudy replies, undeterred. She turns on her heel and walks toward one of the tables, glancing back at Abe to make sure he’s coming. “Little Jewel is queen of the MC, now. But once a barmaid, always a barmaid, I guess.”

  Abe shoots me an apologetic half-smile as he puts a hand on Trudy’s back, guiding her away. I hear him murmur more admonishments to Trudy as they go.

  Since Mandy hasn’t come in yet, I realize I’m going to have to go over and take their drink orders, with Trudy’s once a barmaid, always a barmaid jab still ringing in my ears. But instead, Abe comes back a minute later and orders them from me at the bar.

  “She didn’t mean what she said,” he says to me.

  “Yes she did.” I let out a strained laugh. “But that’s not your fault.”

  “Trudy’s always had a little less love than she needed, or thought she deserved,” Abe sighs. “She lashes out sometimes. When she’s jealous. But she’s not really like that, deep down.”

  “Maybe not,” I say doubtfully. “But thanks for coming to get the drinks, all the same.”

  “Thanks for the talk, Jewel.” He squints at me. “It was kind of you. I won’t forget it.”

  I watch him walk back toward his table, and Trudy. I’m a jumble of emotions, my mind deeply unsettled from everything that’s happened in the last twenty minutes.

  And the worst part? Is that the one person who I’d normally talk to about it all — my own husband — feels like the last person who would understand.

  6

  Angel

  When I pull up to Ghost and Jenna’s place, the first thing I notice is that Jenna’s SUV isn’t outside.

  The second thing I see is that the Christmas decoration vomit that she spewed all over the fuckin’ clubhouse is all over their front lawn, too.

  “Jesus, what the fuck happened to your front yard?” I growl at Ghost as he lets me in.

  He just chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah. At this point, I’ve just decided my own house doesn’t belong to me between Thanksgiving and New Years’ Day. At least the kids like it.”

  “No I don’t!” thirteen-year-old Noah calls from the couch, where he’s watching videos on his phone. “It’s embarrassing.”

  “No shit it is,” I agree, snorting.

  “You want a beer?” Ghost asks as I shut the front door behind me.

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  I stand in the front entry. Ghost looks at me. Neither one of us says anything.

  “So…” he drawls. “You here to see me? Or your sister?”

  “A little of both. I guess.”

  Ghost pauses a beat. He narrows his eyes at me. “Well, Jenna’s out with Mariana at her jiu jitsu lesson at Brooke’s gym. They’ll be home pretty soon.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll start with you.”

  “Noah,” Ghost turns to his son, “Go hang out in your room for a while.”

  “Aww…” Noah begins, but one look from his father shuts him right up. “Okay, fine,” he grumbles, hauling himself up to his feet. “Bye, Uncle Angel.”

  “I’ll see you at the Christmas Eve party, buddy.”

  Noah’s stockinged feet thud down the hall. Ghost looks after him, not turning back to me until after we hear his bedroom door closing.

  “So. I’m guessin’ I know what this is about.”

  “I’m guessin’ you do.” Now that Noah is gone and it’s just me and my Sergeant-at-Arms and brother-in-law, the anger I’ve been pushing down starts to rise to the surface. “You better tell me this straight, brother,” I growl, taking a step forward. “Did you know Abe was comin’ back to town?”

  “No. Angel, fuck. No, I didn’t.” Ghost’s own anger flashes on his face. Reaching up, he runs a rough hand through his hair. “This shit has caused some pretty big fights between me and your sister the last few days. You gotta believe I would never have let Jenna do this if I’d known.”

  I peer at him, searching his face to make sure he’s telling me the truth. When I’m convinced, the knot between my shoulder blades eases a little. “Like anyone ever ‘lets’ my fuckin’ sister do anything,” I quip grimly.

  That gets a laugh. “Yeah. Well, there’s that. She’s a damn force of nature, that’s for sure.”

  “She sure is.” I heave a frustrated sigh. “And she sure as shit has thrown me into a world full of trouble. And you. You think she knows that?”

  “She does now,” Ghost mutters. “I chewed her ass about it, but good. To her credit, she’s sorry about it. But not sorry enough.” He swears softly. “Look, let’s go out to the garage. This shit’s got me wantin’ a smoke.”

  I follow him through the kitchen and out the door to the attached garage. He pushes the garage door opener and we grab two canvas camp chairs to go sit out on the driveway. Ghost lights up and offers me a smoke, handing me his lighter.

  “You talked to Abe yet?” he exhales.

  “Since he showed up at the clubhouse? No. No fuckin’ way,” I grit out, taking a drag. “Pretty sure if I saw him right now I’d wrap my damn hands around his throat and send him to where he w
as supposed to be all along. Nah, I need to figure out what the fuck to do with him before I see him.”

  “What are you gonna do with him?” Ghost asks.

  Fuck. I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t even know what Abe is to me anymore. I haven’t seen the motherfucker for years. And even before he skipped town, I had more or less turned my back on him. The club was my family. Instead of Abe, I turned to Rock Anthony, my club prez, as the father I never had.

  Back then, it seemed like the best decision. Fuck, the only decision.

  But Rock betrayed our club in the end, too.

  So now, I’m the president of the MC. For years, I haven’t had a father at all. Real or otherwise.

  Now, I gotta figure out how to deal with Abe Abbott’s reappearance in all our lives, as club president. But also as a son. A father. A brother.

  “That’s the million fuckin’ dollar question,” I admit. “And then, the question is, what the fuck I’m gonna do with my sister afterwards.”

  “Hey, prez,” Ghost says sharply. “Look, I’m just as pissed at Jenna as you are…”

  “Unlikely,” I cut him off.

  “… But shit. As mad as I am at her, I get it. He is her dad, after all.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him.

  “Yeah, fuck,” he retorts. “I know he’s your dad, too. But it ain’t the same.”

  “You got that right,” I say, jaw clenched.

  “Look, Jenna just wants her dad home,” he sighs. “And she wants him to have a chance at some happy years before he dies. Abe ain’t in that good a health.”

  “I don’t give a shit what she wants,” I bark back. “And I don’t give a shit what kind of shape Abe is in.” I eye him suspiciously. “How the fuck do you know that shit? I thought you said you didn’t know Abe was comin’ back to town.”

  “I didn’t! Jenna told me about all that while we were havin’ it out the night Abe showed up. He’s got some heart shit goin’ on. I don’t know what exactly.”